


House Pride

by MeloAnnechen



Category: Get Your Man, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crossover, Enemies to Friends, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3558935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeloAnnechen/pseuds/MeloAnnechen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What seems reasonable to you might have another angle in another's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Pride

The kitchens at Hogwarts were, by and large, one of the most comforting places for Francis, having been an exchange student, and far from home. The portkey to Manitoba was too dear to use for the holidays, with transoceanic spells being so expensive. He had not mentioned to any of his friends that he was staying at the school, as he had not wanted to be a burden on any of them. Like many of his house, Francis had a good relationship with the house elves, and they had made sure he was well taken care of after the other students were gone. 

Not all of the other students had left for Christmas, and while the fifth-year Hufflepuff had not _avoided_ the others, he tended to spend the nice days outside, and when the weather was horrid, he often found a window to perch in to watch the storms roll through the grounds.

If there was one fly in the porridge, it was the Slytherin that had been a hideous tormentor to Francis their first year. After the Battle of Hogwarts, “mudblood” was no longer a common insult, but there were many other taunts still in vogue, and the young Canadian had heard most of them hurled in his direction. While the teasing had gentled over the past year, Pemberton was still always _there_. Francis had not had a moment to himself outside his house rooms since the term had started if he stayed indoors.

The weather had been wretched for a full week, and his mum had put a spell on his school trunk to nag him if he stayed in his room more than ten hours. That meant that Francis had run out of places to hide. He finally had escaped to the kitchens, and tucked himself into the niche by the bread ovens. The small, warm nook was something soothing to him. It was almost like home, but not enough to make his homesickness worse. 

The bench and table in the corner was one of three spots in the kitchens that had furniture sized for someone larger than a house elf. Francis was definitely taller than the average house-elf, having had a growth spurt over the summer, making him taller than the average fifth-year student. He still had not filled out, which meant the house-elves were constantly feeding him whenever they could get away with it, even going so far as to pack a lunch for him on the days the weather was fine.

Today, he was re-reading an older edition of _Magical Creatures of the Known World_ , absently nibbling on the roasted pumpkin seeds one of the house elves had left on the table. “This makes no sense, the keelut are so obviously not the same thing as the Cu Sith,” he mumbled to himself. “For one thing, the shaggy coat would give it away, as well as the laughing. You’d think this author never left the Isles.”

“Old Trilby rarely left the grounds, much less the Isles,” a quiet voice at Francis’s elbow said.

Francis was almost used to the house-elves answering his rhetorical questions, and did not startle, but he peered over the book at Weftile, the elderly house elf who had spoken, “It shows. Did you know the one who wrote this?”

She nodded, “Aye, he was a new professor when I came here with my Mistress Salvia. If he left for more than a fortnight, it was only when he had to fetch his brother from Belgium.”

“Do you have time to sit and talk?” Francis asked. It had taken him a year to learn to ask if they had time to spare for him, because they would turn themselves inside-out to honor requests, even if they had other tasks that they needed to attend.

She nodded, “Weftile has time for you, young MacKenzie, always. Thank you for asking.” She waved off his offered hand, and hopped up on the bench beside him. “You seem to be in the kitchen much this year. Are you missing home?”

“Not so much missing home as,” Francis ducked his head and shrugged, “well, just tired of being a target for half-baked jokes and demands for herbology notes.”

“Tch, your notes are excellent, no wonder your year-mates want them,” the house-elf patted his arm. “Though these old eyes see more than just a few lazy duffers wanting your insight.”

“What? I mean, Professor Longbottom’s class is tough only if you don’t pay attention, but I’m not doing their assignments for them,” Francis huffed, then mumbled, “all he wants is my notes.”

“Sometimes, someone will ask for something mundane when they want something else they think they cannot have,” the old house elf nodded thanks to the youngster who brought a tea service to their table.

“Thank you, Skitter,” Francis said before shrugging, “My notes are mundane enough, but that’s all he - they want of me.” 

“You are too close to see the whole picture.” Weftile murmured to him, while pouring the tea, “Count yourself honoured if a Slytherin decides that you are theirs. They will kill for you.” She gave a quiet chuckle as she continued, “They won’t die for you, because where would be the use in that, but they will do everything else.”

Such an odd statement, Francis was surprised when the house elf that seemed to have adopted him said it. “You’re talking about Pemberton? He’s still pranking me on a regular basis.”

“Aye. You only see him when he pushes himself in front of you. You have not seen him hex anyone who dares raise their voice against you,” she sipped her tea. 

Francis frowned into his teacup, “He picks on me because he likes me? In that case, I want him to like me a little less. I don’t need an abusive friend.” He added a few moments later, “I’d hate to see what he would do to someone he loved.”

“Tell him so,” she responded. “Some people do not know how they are seen by others.”

“I might.”

Later that evening, Francis decided to wrap up in his cloak as he sat in the deep window overlooking the valley where one could see the lights of Hogsmeade, if it was a clear night. He was reading through his notes for meteoromancy, comparing the signs of the weather that night to the ones that showed the weather had been witched up. It was practice for his defense spellcasting as well, maintaining an alarm ward to warn him if someone was nearby. Francis had managed a ten meter radius before the end of term last year, and was pleased he was able to maintain the wards at fifteen meters while attending another task. 

When it told him who the watcher sneaking up the shadowed side of the stairs was, he sighed, murmuring without looking up from his notes, “What do you want, Pemberton?”

The other student paused, and shrugged, “Nothing.” When he stepped into the light, Francis was able to see him out of the corner of his eye. Wearing jumper and dungarees, Pemberton could have been dressed for wandering the castle or shopping in a Muggle high street.

“That’s an awful lot of sneaking for nothing.” Francis pretended to still be reading, but was getting a mirror shield spell ready in his head, just in case.

“Haven’t seen you in the halls, thought you might have frozen out in the woods,” the Slytherin muttered.

Francis snorted, “I've more sense than to go out in what the locals call a storm for no reason. Your attacks aren't enough reason.”

“My… what?” Pemberton stopped at the head of the stairs, “You think I’m attacking you?”

“I wouldn't call it friendly, that’s for sure,” Francis kept his focus on the papers in front of him.

“If I were seriously attacking you, you’d be in the hospital,” the other boy frowned. “It’s all in fun.”

“No, it is not fun,” Francis finally looked up at Pemberton. “It is annoying, and abusive.”

Pemberton shuffled his feet, looking down the hall. “Wasn't meant to be,” he muttered.

“Now you know how I see it,” Francis glared at him. “You wanted me to be defensive every time I saw you?”

“No, but…” Pemberton met his glare with a sad frown, “I didn't know how else to get your attention.”

“You have it now,” Francis said.

“Not the way I wanted.” Pemberton rubbed the back of his neck, “I asked to stay at school this year when I found out you never went home for Christmas, because I never get the chance to talk to you during classes.”

Francis put his notes away, “So, you have my attention, talk.”

Pemberton stepped forward, slowly, with his hands open to his sides, “It’s weird, the way the houses are, I mean, it’s not as bad as when my parents were here, and there would be hex fights in the halls, but there’s still some that frown on interhouse cooperation.” He ducked his head, “Yeah, all right, a good many of them are in my house, but it still makes it hard to get close enough to ask you if you wanted to go to the Broomsticks some weekend.” 

Francis blinked in surprise at the other boy.

Pemberton shrugged, “Eh, I probably screwed that up with the teasing, so…”

“It’s too late to go to the village,” Francis said, catching Pemberton’s sleeve as he turned to go, “but I know where we can get tea and cakes now, if you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> The conversation with Weftile has a quote from petrichorlore found within this post, [about the motivations for Slytherins](http://gothiccharmschool.tumblr.com/post/113664944675/gothtriggers-petrichorlore-tenyeardrunks). I found it insightful, and a key to a relationship that could inspire a healer to immigrate.


End file.
